


Unacceptable

by EllaYuki



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Spoilers for Season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-11 00:15:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2045643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllaYuki/pseuds/EllaYuki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The pack reaches the loft just as Derek dies and Stiles tries his damnedest to bring him back (because Allison's death was one death too many for their pack).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on and around Derek’s alleged future death, starting from the scene in the mid-season trailer where Braeden calls out Derek’s name as his head falls to the side.  
> I have… no idea what I’m doing, honestly. I wrote the first thousand words of it on a break at work today, on my phone. 
> 
> I might write an alternate ending…?

~*~*~

They arrive at the loft in time to see Derek‘s head falling slowly to the side and hear Braeden calling out his name in a scared tone.

Scott, Lydia and Malia are rooted to the floor in the entryway, disbelief marring all of their faces. Lydia looks as though she‘s just about ready to scream. And not because of her banshee abilities.

Stiles doesn‘t slow down, doesn‘t stop until he‘s right next to Derek‘s prone body. Then he kneels and shakes Derek‘s shoulder lightly, calling his name. More desperate with every passing second the werewolf doesn‘t react.

A full minute later Stiles strikes him cross the cheek. It‘s desperation and the memory of the two previous times it worked. He can hear the outraged gasps from his friends and Braeden who makes to grab for his hand. He just pulls it out of her reach and shakes Derek a bit more.

“You listen to me, Derek Hale, you are going to wake up _right now_ or so help me, I will drag your little werewolf ass to the land of the living myself just to kick it. You don‘t get to die, you hear me? No one dies anymore. I don‘t care what Lydia‘s banshee senses say. Wake. Up!“

In the silence that has fallen around him, he hears a barely audible ‘Stiles‘ coming from Scott and a whimper from Malia but he doesn‘t take his eyes off of Derek.

He takes his head in his hands, leans their foreheads together and gathers all his belief and wills Derek to live.

Through his concentration, he pushes Braeden away when she tries to pry him off of the prone werewolf. Hears her breathy “Sure, now you care again.“ and he doesn‘t even open his eyes when he snaps at her that he‘s always cared. She makes a derisive sort of sound, though it‘s obvious just how upset she is.

“ _Since when?_ And you‘ve done bang up job of showing it lately. He‘s barely seen any of you the last couple of weeks!“

“Since when? Since he got himself shot with wolfsbane and I had to take care of his useless ass. Since I spent almost three hours holding his head above water while he was paralyzed and waxed poetic about how we didn‘t trust each other. Since he turned his back to the kanima to make sure I’d get away. Since I spent the whole summer helping him look for his runaway betas. Since he relentlessly looked for me when I was possessed. Since I _went to fucking Mexico to get him back_. Do you need more? ‘Cause I can go on and on and on.“

He takes a breath and continues concentrating on willing Derek to life.

“I know I‘m not magic or anything. But Deaton said that the force of one’s will can do a lot of extraordinary things. And I‘m willing to believe anything right now. Especially if it saves one of the few people I actually trust and care about.“

He hears a sharp inhale from the group behind him but he ignores it all. Addresses Derek directly.

“Come on, man, you have to wake up. If not for us, then for Cora. How do you think she‘ll feel when she learns that one more family member has died? Come on, wake up. Wake up, wake up.“

After a few minutes of saying those words like a mantra and pushing all his will into it, he feels a tentative hand on his shoulder. He shrugs it off but it just grips harder.

“Come on, Stiles, you tried.“ says Scott, gentle but firm. “There‘s nothing more you can do.“

Stiles pulls back only slightly. Opens his eyes halfway and shudders a breath. Grabs his best friend‘s wrist when Scott moves to pull him up. Pulls him down instead.

“Give him the bite.“ he tells Scott and he barely recognizes his own voice. “I _know_ it might not work but… just. _Try._ He‘s been with us from the start, Scotty. Sure, we might not have appreciated it for a while but we owe it to him to at least try. He would. If it were you or me, you know he would. So just…“

“Okay. Stiles, okay. I‘ll give it a try.“ Because, if nothing else, Scott will never say no to Stiles, not when it really matters. And it really matters now.

So Scott kneels next to Stiles, takes Derek‘s arm that Stiles lifts and proffers, takes a deep breath, and with one last look at his two brothers, sinks his fangs into Derek‘s forearm.

Stiles keeps up a steady flow of “come on, come on, work, come on“under his breath. No one else says a thing.

Scott pulls back, wipes the blood from his mouth and chin with the sleeve of his jersey and sits back on his heels.

Now they wait.

And wait

and wait.

Nothing happens.

Stiles hears a sniffle from behind and forces his gaze towards the sound. Malia stands solemn and sad next to Lydia who is crying. Because of course she would. She really thought they‘d manage to save someone this time. She thought they‘d save their own this time.

But, again, they only managed to get there too late. Cora was right.

Stiles deflates.

Turns back to face Derek‘s body. Hugs himself. Leans over and rests his forehead on Derek‘s shoulder.

“We‘ll have to bury him. I‘ll have to make those wolfsbane ropes he had on Laura‘s grave. Where are we even going to bury him?“

He takes a deep breath. This is one of those rare times he feels utterly lost.

So he is so relieved when Scott stands up and takes charge. He tells Malia to take Lydia home and stay with her. He asks Braeden to leave. She protests, saying she has just as much a right to be there as they do. Stiles has an irrational impulse to tell her that no, she doesn‘t, _really_ , but keeps quiet. Scott tells her they‘ll call her when they‘re ready to bury him, but for now, asks to please give them some space. After a long silence, she leaves.

“Come on, let‘s put him on the bed.“ Scott says.

 

~*~*~

 

They bury him two days later, in the Beacon Hills Cemetery, in a recently vacated spot a row behind Claudia Stilinski’s grave. Stiles insisted when he heard of the opening. The Sheriff pulled some strings.

The ceremony is a private affair. A grand total of eleven people attend: Stiles, Scott, Lydia, Kira, and Malia, the Sheriff and Melissa, Chris Argent, Liam, Deaton and Braeden. Peter isn’t there, mostly because he’s been missing for a while now and nobody cared to contact him. Scott took it upon himself to call Cora to let her know (expensive as that call was), and also Isaac, and to warn them against coming to Beacon Hills, at least until this whole Benefactor things was over.

Stiles is the one who makes the wolfsbane spiral on top of the grave (though not as wide as Laura’s had been), having asked Deaton how to do it properly.

They each say a few words about him, about who Derek Hale was to each of them, talk about the quiet strength and fierce loyalty and unexpected gentleness of him.

After all is said and done, the small group disperses. Only Scott and Stiles remain a while longer by the fresh grave, both lost in thought, in memory. In regret.

“He was a good man.” Scott says softly after a while.

“Yeah.”

“We might not have always seen eye to eye, he might not have been the best alpha, but, at the end of the day, he was a good man.”

“ Yeah.”

“I’ll miss him.”

“…yeah.” said Stiles, yet again, and went quiet for a while. Then.

“Cora said that losing pack is like losing a limb. I’m not a wolf but I think I get what she meant, now. I wish I didn’t.”

Scott doesn’t say anything, though Stiles knows he understands.

They stay there for a few more minutes, thoughts full of _‘what ifs’_ and _‘what could have beens’_. Then, with a deep breath, Stiles squares his shoulders, turns and walks away, Scott only half a step behind.

They have a Benefactor to find and tear limb from limb. They can mourn properly later.


	2. Alternate ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I wrote an alternate ending that isn't so depressing...?  
> It's up to the reader which end they like more.

_“Come on, let‘s put him on the bed.“ Scott says._

 

~*~*~

 

Everything’s ready for the evening funeral.

They’ve washed him and dressed him and built him a coffin.They've decided to let him lie in his bed until it’s time to take his body to the cemetery.

Scott has gone to pick up the hearse they’ve rented, leaving Stiles to watch over Derek. And Stiles? Well, Stiles is wound up so tight, he’s beside himself. And so very angry at the world.

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, by Derek’s left hand, elbows on knees, head in hands. Trying to keep his knee from bouncing. He’s barely slept more than a handful of fitful hours in the past three days. He’s running on fumes and the knowledge that sleep will only bring nightmares, old and new.

So it’s no wonder he almost misses the small sound of an inhale coming from behind him. But he hears it, and just as he turns around, he feels fingers slowly take hold of the back of his shirt.

Stiles prays to all the Gods that he isn’t imagining all this. That he isn’t imagining green eyes fluttering open, and then glowing bright blue, a blue he knows so well.

Those glowing eyes turn on him when he gasps. And they fade back to their normal green when Derek recognizes Stiles.

“Stiles” Derek says, hoarse and quiet. He sounds like he’s been screaming his throat raw. Stiles isn’t even thinking about it when he springs from the bed to get some water, is on a sort of dazed autopilot. He props Derek’s head up when he helps him drink and gently lays him back down when he’s done.

Then he just sits there, staring at Derek, as if still unable to comprehend what is really happening.

Then Derek says his name again and it snaps Stiles from his daze.

“Oh my God!” He breathes. “Oh my God!” he says again, louder this time. “You’re alive. Dude, you’re alive, Derek! I thought… and we tried but it didn’t… how are you even… no, that doesn’t matter. You’re _alive!_ I don’t care _how_.” He says in a rush and shudders in exhaustion. Leans over to rest his forehead against Derek’s shoulder, just like two days ago. Takes a deep breath.

“Don’t do that again.” He tells Derek, quietly. He wonders vaguely if blue eyes means Derek’s back to his full werewolf-y self. “I should kick your ass for scaring us like that. You made _Lydia cry_ , you bastard! Just…”

Stiles raises his head and looks into Derek’s eyes steadily. Derek watches him just as evenly, but with a hint of curiosity.

“I heard you.” Derek says, his voice still raw. “Faintly. Like from the other side of a really thick wall. Calling my name, telling me to wake up. Your voice was trembling. You mentioned Cora.”

He pauses, swallows thickly, wets his lips, continues just as quietly.

“I… almost let go. I was already half on the other side. But then there was this skinny little brat telling me I’m not allowed to die and I just… stepped back.”

He’s quiet for a moment, as though to let that sink in, and then says, quietly, “Thank you.”

“Don’t.” Stiles says. “Don’t thank me. I didn’t do anything to warrant it. I just talked at you, trying to will you alive.” Stiles shrugs at that last bit as though that was something tried and failed, and not really worth mentioning.

“You made Scott bite me. You dragged me back from oblivion. You did more than you think. So, _thank you._ ”

Derek gives a faint smile, tired but genuine, and Stiles feels a heavy weight lift from his chest. He smiles just as faint and just as genuine.

He takes a deep breath. Derek is okay. He’s alive, holding tight onto the sleeve around Stiles’ left wrist.

Stiles breathes. He’s okay. They’re all okay for now.

He pulls out his phone to call Scott.

 


End file.
